


Natural; instinctive

by goblin



Category: Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are Dead - Stoppard
Genre: Amnesia, Banter, Cabin Fic, Canadian Shack, Dialogue Heavy, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Questions, Sharing a Bed, Slash, Snow, Yuletide 2014, but probably not actually Canadian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 10:15:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2808779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goblin/pseuds/goblin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rosencrantz and Guildenstern wake up in bed together... in a log cabin... in the snow. They have so many questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Natural; instinctive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shinobi93](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinobi93/gifts).



“Is that you?” asked one.  
The other’s answer was largely muffled, and produced vibrations on the neck of the first.  
Confused by these vibrations, the first man shifted onto his side to work this out, and came face to face with... a face. It belonged to a man with eyes far too wide and too blue for the time of morning, and had long brown locks of hair falling over it, and also an exceedingly enthusiastic smile. All of these were very familiar. “If I wasn’t me,” said the second man, “how would I know?”  
“Good morning, Rosencrantz – it is... Rosencrantz... isn’t it?”  
“You think I might not be Rosencrantz, or you think it might not be morning?”  
“Either – both – may I ask you a question?”  
“Need you even ask?”  
“Need I ask you if I may ask you a question, or need I ask you a question?”  
Guildenstern – let us assume that it was indeed Guildenstern – decided to ignore this purposefully obtuse reply, and went ahead and asked. “Are you decent?”  
Rosencrantz – let us assume that it was indeed Rosencrantz – raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”  
Guildenstern lifted the sheet and surveyed their state beneath, then lowered it again carefully. “Did we...?”  
“Have sex?” supplied Rosencrantz helpfully.  
Guildenstern sighed. “Did you have to put it so bluntly?”  
Rosencrantz shrugged as best he could while lying on one arm. “What’s the use in beating around the bush?”  
Guildenstern scowled. “Are you being obscene again?”  
“What, now?” Rosencrantz’s face was a picture of innocence. “It’s just my arm around your waist, what’s obscene about that?”  
Guildenstern grimaced. “Surely you didn’t think I was referring to your actions?”  
“What else could you have been referring to?”  
“The word ‘bush’!”  
“Statement,” declared Rosencrantz, and kissed his friend on the nose. “One-love.”  
“Don’t you know any other games?” sighed Guildenstern, as he rolled himself over, sat up, and put his feet onto what seemed to be a rustic but tolerably splinter-free wooden floor.  
“Got any marbles?” asked Rosencrantz hopefully.  
Guildenstern gestured around the room expansively. “What do you think?” he said sardonically.  
“Why don’t you check your purse?” Rosencrantz suggested.  
Rolling his eyes, Guildenstern searched through the tangled mess of shirts, boots, breeches, codpieces, travelling cloaks, hats, doublets, and assorted other garments, and finally found his belt, to which was attached his purse (at least, he thought was his; it might have been Rosencrantz’s). He opened it. Inside were several coins and a small leaf. He sat back on the bed and showed the inside of the purse to his friend, pointedly.  
“Tennis racquets?” Rosencrantz inquired.  
Guildenstern regarded him in amazement. “Where in this room could tennis racquets possibly be hidden? How would we even play here?”  
Indeed, the room was barely large enough for the small bed in which they had woken, a narrow table, two chairs, and a fireplace with a hob. There was one window, one door, and no cupboards.  
“Where are we?” Guildenstern wondered aloud.  
“Judging by way the walls are made of logs and the roof is made of logs and the floor is made of halved and smoothed out logs, I’d say we’re in some sort of log... what’s the word?”  
“Cabin?”  
Rosencrantz clicked his fingers, wondering why he hadn’t thought of that.  
“Yes, but a log cabin where?” insisted Guildenstern.  
“Why don’t you go to the window and find out?” suggested Rosencrantz, reclining in the bed with his hands linked behind his head and a placid smile on his face.  
Guildenstern scowled at him, but traipsed over to the window and stared out. “It’s an entirely white landscape, how am I supposed to tell anything by that?”  
Rosencrantz sat up suddenly. “Ooh, is it snowing?!” Wrapping the sheet around himself to form a suspiciously perfect toga, he hurried to join his friend by the window to admire the scenery.  
Guildenstern turned to him in outrage. “We’ve woken up, in bed together, naked, with no – ”  
“Tennis racquets?”  
“ – idea of where we are, no – ”  
“Quoits?”  
“ – memory of how we got here, and no – ”  
“Marbles?”  
“ – _memory_ , god damn you, of where we ought to be going next, and the thing that most interests you is whether it’s snowing?!?”  
Rosencrantz was unrattled, apart from a small furrow forming on his brow as he continued to look at the snow. “Do you think we’ve lost our marbles?” he mused.  
Guildenstern groaned. “Must you play at words now?”  
The other man’s face became more serious as he turned to his friend. “What else do we have to go on?”  
“Do you think we should try to leave?” asked Guildenstern.  
Rosencrantz strode to the door and flung it open. This let in a gale-force blast of icy cold wind which blew his hair clean back behind him and propelled several snowflakes on his face at high speed for the few seconds it took him to slam the door closed again.  
Rosencrantz pivoted on the spot, and said, “Does that answer your question?” Then he swept back to the bed, flopped down on it, curled up, and drew the warmer covers over himself.  
Slowly, Guildenstern walked over and sat down on the bed next to him. “So is that it, then? We’re giving up and going back to bed?”  
“When it’s this cold, why not?”  
Guildenstern sighed, and awkwardly began to climb into bed too. He nearly fell out of it in the process, as he was trying to stay near the edge and untangle sheets and shield his crotch with his hands at the same time.  
“Why be modest, when I’ve seen it all before?” said Rosencrantz gently.  
Guildenstern blanched. “Is that what you were implying before – that you remember and I don’t?”  
Rosencrantz shook his head. “It’s not that I remember, exactly, but given the circumstances isn’t it fair to assume?”  
Guildenstern sighed with relief that their amnesia was mutual. He turned to his friend and shifted a little closer. “Do you think we... did it?”  
“Did what?” asked Rosencrantz, placing a hand around Guildenstern’s waist once more.  
“Are you thick?”  
Rosencrantz’s eyes flicked down to his own crotch and back up again. “Why don’t you tell me?”  
Guildenstern let out a huff of laughter. “Are you flirting?”  
“Isn’t it obvious?”  
Guildenstern took a deep breath. “If I kissed you,” he said, “and it felt – ”  
“Instinctive?”  
“ – yes, or natural, do you think that would mean we’ve done it before?”  
Rosencrantz nodded, trembling despite his bravado.  
Guildenstern took a deep breath in, let it out shakily, then kissed him. It was long and slow and sweet, and Rosencrantz’ head was tilted just right, and one of his legs was beginning to entwine with one of Guildenstern’s.  
At last, their lips parted.  
“How did that feel?” Rosencrantz murmured. “Natural?”  
A smile bloomed on Guildenstern’s face. “Instinctive, wouldn’t you say?”  
Delightedly, Rosencrantz began to kiss him again.  
Some time passed, in which there was – in addition to the kissing – caressing, heavier breathing, the rustling of sheets, and some small but audible moans. Then Guildenstern asked, “Would you like to test some other things to see if we’ve done them before?”  
“Oh, _yes_.”  
“Statement,” said Guildenstern. “One-all.”


End file.
